Arms
by In Between Daydreams
Summary: In the aftermath of 9x24. She couldn't stop thinking about it. About that moment, when they actually were two parts of one whole.


Arms

In Between Daydreams

The moment is over. Help came and they could only remember pieces of what happened after the elevator doors creaked open and the flicker of hope cascaded onto them as if it were brilliant rays of sunshine. Even though there was no brilliance or beauty to what was outside the doors.

_Flashback..._

_Creak..._

_She remembered the doors opening and determined faces of what she thought were at least three men and women watching over she and her partner. They shouldn't be described as faces, but as tall, fuzzy blotches of white and grey and brown that she only was assured were figures when their nimble hands checked her vitals._

_She didn't squirm or wiggle or do anything to cause him discomfort, because she was in his arms and they moved as one for the time being. Moving would cause him discomfort, and that was the last thing either of them needed._

_They shined a bright light in her eyes that made her head pound even harder and her grip on her partner's hand tighten._

_She smelled something that was almost definitely blood coming from somewhere close. She wasn't sure if it was hers or his or somebody else's entirely. The air smelt like iron and sweat and death and it made her nose wrinkle each time she wasn't focused on him._

_On her partner. On the only person who clouded her thoughts for the moment._

_The only thing he saw was the ceiling of that elevator and then a dull, broken looking hallway. Pieces of the wall looked like they had crumbled just moments before. He felt something small and thin and most definitely sharp plunge into his arm, taking the edge off of his previously overwhelming pain._

_Windows that were previously polished and transparent were now reduced to piles irregular glass shards on the floor of the hallway. The wheels of the stretcher rolled over some of the glass, making a repulsive crunching noise._

_Then he blacked out and she did too. As two parts of one whole._

Present Time...

"Tony." Ziva said from her desk.

"Yeah, Ziv. What's up?" He replied in a soft tone.

"Can we talk for a minute? In private?" She questioned, nodding her head toward the elevator which was now in regular working condition.

"Sure." Then they walked side by side to the elevator. They got in and pressed the stop button.

"Tony." Ziva started as she took one of Tony's hands in hers and turned to face. "Do you ever think of that day? When Vance's car exploded? When we got..." she paused and cleared her throat, "stuck in here."

"Is something wrong?" Tony questioned. He squeezed her hand and stepped closer.

"I can't stop thinking about it. I mean, I know it was months ago, but I just can't sit here at my desk. And... not think about _that_ day. When we almost, when we almost died." She finished.

"Ziva." He breathed. It was just like how he had breathed her name that day. He pulled her into a hug. "I've been thinking about it a lot too. Probably Ducky's out of recovery. I mean I know he wasn't here. He wasn't with us in the building, but still. He got hurt." He was right. Maybe that was what got her thinking too.

She nodded against his chest. His reassuring grip on her that let her drop her walls for a moment.

"Do you? Think about it I mean." She said, her head still resting on his chest.

"You mean about what happened? We were both kind of out of it. Adrenaline rushing and all. It was really more about actions, not about thinking. You remember, right?"

"Yeah." She tried to say as nonchalantly as possible while quickly pulling away and retracting her hand. "Right." She pressed the stop button, which quickly brought the elevator back to life. When it opened in the bullpen, she walked toward the Ladies Room. He called her name once. "Ziva." She heard, but she kept waking. She needed to think. Alone. About how to make her question sound like a normal.

When she got into the restroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. She had to start thinking.

That was when he walked in. Determination was, most definitely, evident on his face.

"Ziva." He said, for the second time in the past 5 minutes.

"No, Tony. I just want to be a-" She was cut off by Tony bringing his face down to hers and letting their lips touch. It was slow, and passionate and it was perfect. In the same way it was perfect that day.

"I remember Ziva. We just never really talked about it. I mean-." Now it was his turn to get cut off.

"Shut up." She whispered against his lips as she kissed him. She brought a hand up to us neck and the other one went to his hair. His arms just went around her waist. And in his arms she felt safe. Because in his arms, she knew she was alright. That they were alright.


End file.
